


Scribbling

by starryeyeddreamers



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Fluff, Grantaire interacting with children, I am actually terrible at writing anything happy, M/M, Smittenjolras, art lessons in the park, ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-29
Updated: 2013-07-29
Packaged: 2017-12-21 17:54:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/903150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starryeyeddreamers/pseuds/starryeyeddreamers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras discovers that Grantaire gives art lessons to little kids.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scribbling

Summer in the city was Enjolras’ favorite. He loved happy people and nothing made people happier than sunshine and warmth on their faces. He loved that everyone was outside, and laughing on the streets or holding hands in the farmers’ market or lounging on bright blankets in the park. There was still unhappiness and injustice, but statistically, Enjolras was sure there were fewer frowns in June than January. 

He’s on his lunch break, walking through the park to get to the little cafe across the way he likes so much. The flowers are in full bloom, there is an elderly couple sitting on a bench feeding pigeons together. A man is playing fetch with his dog, a huge, black Newfoundland that keeps tripping over his enormous paws that he hasn’t quite grown into. In front of the spectacular fountain that is the focus of the park, there is a ring of children sitting, notebooks in their laps. They’re all hunched over, little faces scrunched in concentration, pencils gripped tightly in little hands. He had thought they were playing “le jeu du facteur” until he saw the notebooks.

Then he saw him. He was sitting cross legged in the middle of the circle with a notebook in his own lap. He had actually shaved and the shorts he was wearing had no rips in sight. His usually wild hair had been brushed back out of his face. He was not drawing himself, but was currently grinning at one of the boys who was talking animatedly in the way all little boys do. Enjolras could not believe his eyes. 

He circled around the fountain and found a bench from which he could see Grantaire and also see if he was imagining this scene. He made sure Grantaire could not see him. Because he was fairly sure that was Grantaire. Grantaire with a group of children. He strained to hear the conversation his friend was having with the boy. Because that’s what Grantaire was, his friend.

“Monsieur? Monsieur?”  
“Yes, Henri?”  
“What about this?” He waved his notebook around, Enjolras can barely make out what looks to be the boy’s own rendition of the fountain.  
“That’s excellent, the lion head here...” He pointed ink stained fingers to a part of the drawing. “Is really great Henri, good work.” He smiled at the boy’s almost toothless grin as the boy goes back to his drawing, sticking his tongue out in concentration.  
“Monsieur?” A blonde girl frowned at her notebook.  
“Aurore?” He stood and walked over sitting down next to her. “What’s wrong?”  
“My drawing is awful.” She said in a quiet tone that Enjolras strained to hear. Grantaire asked to see it and she relented and Grantaire has the most serious face on that Enjolras has ever seen his face wear.  
“Aurore this is beautiful.” He offers a gentle smile to the girl and Enjolras can feel his chest tighten and he wants it to stop because this is Grantaire. “You got the man perfectly.”  
“But I can’t draw the puppy.” She pouted.  
“Can I see your pencil, sweetheart?” The black haired man said fondly, taking it in hand and he began to sketch some lines on the sheet.  
“Here, dogs are just big blobs with legs right? So you know the outlines I taught you?” She nodded, the other children have abandoned their own drawings by now and are all crowded around the sometimes student, sometimes activist, and apparently sometimes art teacher. Because all Enjolras can think of is the suggestion of this not being the first time he’s taught these kids and he is astounded that he did not know this about his cynical friend. “So you just draw those, but in dog shape, like a round body here, with oval legs, and round head, but not out but through the body circle like that...” He handed the sketch book back to allow the girl, who was now smiling, the chance to finish her drawing.

Grantaire, who drives Enjolras absolutely insane at meetings because he will not take them seriously. Grantaire who goes days without showering and weeks without studying. Grantaire who drinks and shows up on Enjolras’ doorstep on Friday nights absolutely wasted. Grantaire who believes in nothing. That Grantaire is teaching children how to draw at the park. That Grantaire just made a girl smile about her artwork. And Enjolras, who is a grown man damnit and not a middle school girl, might have butterflies in his stomach. Who else knows about this, he wonders. Is he the only one who did not know that Grantaire is apparently not the cynic he makes himself out to be?

He is shaken from his thoughts by Grantaire speaking louder, to the whole group now. “What did everyone choose to draw today?” The kids all begin to shout in unison, which causes their teacher to laugh. “No, around the circle, one by one.”  
“The pigeons!”  
“A bench!”  
“The fountain!” Every answer is a triumphant shout from these children.  
“The man and his puppy.”  
“Flowers!”  
“A tree!”  
“That man!” The kid pointed to Enjolras, who had been trying to be discreet behind a newspaper that had been left on the bench. Grantaire’s head turned to where the boy pointed. By glancing around the paper quickly, he can see Grantaire visibly blanch. He instantly recognized Enjolras, who immediately felt extremely creepy and slunk down in his seat. Grantaire glanced at his watch.  
“All right, it’s 12:30, everyone, time for lunch.” The kids all groaned but quickly flipped back to the covers of their notebooks. “Wasn’t it nice being outside for a change?” He was met with several jubilant shouts. “If it’s nice out on Wednesday, we can ask Mademoiselle Chantal if I can take you guys here again.” The seven little faces all grinned. "You have to ask nicely though."

Soon Grantaire had herded the rambunctious bunch, notebooks and pencils in hand past the wrought iron gates of the park and across the street to where Enjolras knew the community center was. Half of the children were skipping and Aurore held one of the other girl’s hands as they swung. Grantaire had glanced back at Enjolras, with an eyebrow raised. He had shouted for Henri to hurry along and to stop petting the dog. The merry bunch of budding artists disappeared from sight.

Enjolras exhaled sharply. He put the paper down, a poor rouse. He pulled out his phone and texted his best friend.

Enjolras: Did you know Grantaire teaches art classes to little kids?

Combeferre: Uh yeah?

Enjolras: Why didn’t you tell me?

Combeferre: I thought u knew?

Enjolras: What other selfless things does our resident cynic do behind my back?

Combeferre: He’s not that cynical you know, he just likes get a rise out of you. I think he teaches self defense classes at the comm center 2 idk youre the one who never pays attention to him  
Enjolras considered this. He had tried to ignore Grantaire because he wanted to help everyone, but he was not even passive, it felt like he was actively trying to ruin their meetings. But Combeferre was right, he had not paid attention to Grantaire, or he would have noticed that he actually care about things besides whiskey and raunchy jokes.

Courfeyrac: JUST TELL HIM yOU WANT TO HAVE HIS ARTISTIC BABIES ALREADY 

Enjolras: It’s not like that, and you were not a part of this convo

Courfeyrac: I read ovr Ferres shoulder so I am so a part of this plus I know you like like our little R so stop denyingggggg it

He put his phone away after that. He truly did not understand his friendship with Courfeyrac sometimes. He glanced at his watch. 12:45. He was late for work.

Oh god, Courfeyrac was right, a little bit. Enjolras grimaced as he scrambled up the street. He had missed lunch and his stomach was grumbling and he was late for work for the first time in his life. He did like Grantaire, because all he could think of on the almost sprint back to his desk was Grantaire’s face when the little girl was sad about her drawing and how happy he was when she finally smiled again. Enjolras suddenly wanted to see his artwork. He wanted to make Grantaire smile. 

 

After the meeting that night, which Grantaire had kept far enough back from, nestled in a booth sharing a cigarette with Jehan and hiding his face. Courfeyrac kept shooting Enjolras glances, and Enjolras was so embarrassed that he had been caught basically stalking Grantaire.

But he swallowed his pride at the end, and was maybe prodded over to the booth by a concerned and fed up Combeferre who had been at the brunt end of Enjolras’ worrying about this interaction all evening. When he reached the table he noticed that for once, no whiskey bottle sat on the tabletop and no flask was in Grantaire’s hands. Jehan caught on to the awkward move and slipped out of the booth mumbling an excuse as he went. 

“Hey.”  
“Hey.” Enjolras paused and sucked in a breath, Grantaire still avoided eye contact.  
“Look, I’m sor...” But he was interrupted by Grantaire.  
“No, don’t apologize.” He shook his head. “I’m so embarrassed.” Enjolras raised an eyebrow.  
“Why, you’re volunteering?”  
“It was required, part of my parole.”  
“Grantaire, your parole ended eight months ago, I remember we had a party to celebrate.”  
“Well, this was the first time I was allowed to take the kids by myself somewhere and I was so nervous and uh, you were there and uh, that’s about the only thing I contribute to society right now.”  
“I think that’s a pretty great thing Grantaire, see, you actually do care about something.” Enjolras had meant it as a compliment really, he had even offered an unsure smile but Grantaire’s expression had darkened. His voice dripped with acid.  
“Pretty hard to believe, I know, you think I’m useless.”  
“No.” Enjolras said with new found fire in his eyes. “I do not.” Grantaire laughed sardonically. All their friends had left by now.  
“Yes you do, I never actually do anything helpful for your causes. I just piss you off.” He groaned. “I wish you hadn’t seen that. I need something that doesn’t involve you in my life.” Enjolras couldn’t help the sharp intake of breath, his heart suddenly ached because he thought of how happy being with those kids had made the broken man in front of him.  
“What does that mean?” Grantaire looked like he regretted everything he had just said.  
“Oh Jesus, what do you think it means.”  
“Have I been that awful all the time?” Enjolras questioned.  
“No, you’ve been perfect all the time and it’s ruining my fucking life.”  
“Stop.”  
“No, it’s the truth, you must know how much I love you. I needed something in my life where I didn’t think about you and how fucked up I am comparatively.” He growled. “Those kids were it, but now you were in the park and Luc has a pretty wonky drawing of you in his sketchbook, which is nothing compared to my own sketchbook and why do you care all of a sudden, can we just go back to ignoring me except to tell me to shut up.” He sighed and looked at his feet. “It was easier.” Enjolras, while Grantaire had been rambling had sat in the booth across from him. He promptly leaned over and placed a soft kiss to Grantaire’s mouth which promptly became quiet.  
“Shut up.” Enjolras whispered against his mouth. Grantaire pulled back with a jerk and hurt in his eyes.  
“Don’t fuck with me Enjolras.”  
“I’m not. I’m pretty sure I like you.” Grantaire leaned farther back, eyes and stance like a cornered dog.  
“No, you don’t.”  
“You’re right. I say you teaching children how to draw in the park today, so I’m pretty sure I love you.” He grinned, saying all of this very loudly. Grantaire stood up to leave, gathering his thick, leather jacket as he went. Enjolras grabbed his wrist and pulled him gently onto the bench next to him. “Please.” He pleaded. Something Grantaire was sure he had never had to do.  
“I’m useless, you don’t love me.”  
“I’m in my own head so I would know, and up until today I think I’ve been blind.” He shrugged with Grantaire’s wrist still in his grip.”Because you’re brilliant.” He beamed. “You teach children how to draw and Jesus I’m pretty sure my heart melted right there in the park. You do believe in something.”  
“Yeah, you.” Grantaire murmured. “I just want those kids to actually believe in their talent.” He trailed off with something that sounded very much like, unlike me.  
“Can I see your work? Everyone says it’s beautiful.” Enjolras kissed Grantaire again, because the man was never actually going to listen to anything he had to say. His horrid self esteem wouldn’t allow it. So Enjolras was going to have to show him.

Grantaire was going to have buy the children each a watercolor set as thanks for the night he had.

**Author's Note:**

> help this did not end well


End file.
